TravLog, Stardate: 01-08-05

3FountAbbey3
Originally uploaded by Epiphany.

~Girls' Day Out with Doc~
Went to L'abbaye du Trois Fontaines (Three Fountains Abbey) - Another Cistercian abbey built around the same time as Fontenay. But this one has not been kept up like Fontenay has, and all that is left is a ruin. It's still quite beautiful, though--rather poetic in its silence. The buildings nearby, which used to house the monks, have now been converted to private residences, and I couldn't help thinking how cool it would be to grow up with the remains of a 12th century abbey to play around in. I was always a bit of an explorer as a child, and I would have had a grand time here. Doc had been here before, and said that she knew when she saw it that I would love it. She was right. Now if she could only figure out where I could get a 12th century cistercian abbey ruin of my own to take home with me.
Afterwards, we went to lunch at an Indian restaurant. It was Saturday, and the restaurant looked to be in a downtown-ish area, so I think it gets pretty good business during the workweek, but today it was pretty much just Doc and I for the whole meal. And did we take our time? yes we did. I do love me some girl talk.
Then we headed to Notre Dame de l'Epine, a basilica that houses a miraculous statue. The story goes that on the night of the assumption in 1400, some shepherds were keeping their flocks by night -like they do- and they saw a light coming from a thornbush. Thinking to themselves, "pourquoi est il y a une light dans le thornbush?" they went to investigate. Turns out there was a statue in there too, and the light was there to mark the spot. The statue is of the Virgin Mary carrying the Baby Jesus in her arms. And thus, a church was founded. Pilgrimages were made, the sick were healed, it was a beautiful thing. So when Doc and I went, she explained to me this story, and told me about the well that is inside the church. It is said that if you pray to Our Lady and drink the water from the well, she'll answer your prayers. Most people pray for love and familial happiness and domestic-type things, so that's what we did. Doc said that when she was here before, she and Vivi drank from the well and prayed, and now Vivi's got a Huzzzband and Doc's got a Chiiile. I wished to find my Grande Amour -- my companion and partner for life and all times. I'll keep you posted.
Heading on Northward (I think), we came to la Ferme de Navarin - the site of battles in WWI where there is now a large monument/ossuary that houses the remains of ten thousand soldiers, mostly unknown, who died on the fields of Champagne between 1914-1918. On the grounds surrounding the monument, you can still see the trenches and holes blasted into the ground from the artillary fire. We were very proud of making the connection between this place and "The Guns of Navaronne" but I have since found that they have nothing to do with each other. -ah well, we're just a coupla girls, anyway.
From there we went to the American monument. Okay, now I've gotta tell you this: we were driving, thought we might be a bit lost, and then I realized I'd taken a picture of the map on the big signboard back at Navarin. So I got out my trusty digital camera, flipped back to the map pic, zoomed wayyyy in, and navigated. You may now tell me that I'm a genius, but of course, being a genius, I already know.
So. American Monument. WE built it. In France. As a monument to Us. ...hmmm... It's really tall and grand looking, and has a great big impressive eagle on it and WE built it. On French soil, as a monument to Ourselves, the Americans. Ah well, I wasn't in on the meetings, so I'll not comment further. But I will tell you that Doc peed on it!!! **look of shock**
Lemme 'splain: We'd been driving around a lot, and had had a lot to drink (WATER. Don't look at me like that), and Doc was feeling a very particular urge. And there comes a point at which the Urge Cannot Be Ignored. So we went to the little building for taking care of such urges, but after 5 on a Saturday in Winter, that little building is closed. And we're out in the middle of nowhere because who wants to build a gas station just beside the American monument, so Doc just decided to go and take care o' bidness instead of fretting about it further. So she's squatting, and she looks around and realizes she's in a Trench. as in Trench Warfare. She's probably not the first to do some bidness in these trenches either, because just about 20 yards away, there's another, parallel trench. Those boys back in the day were that close to one another while waiting for someone in the other trench to stick their head up so they could blow it off. daaaaaang, ya know? just... wow.
So after that sank in for a while, we headed on. On the way to Nico and Christine's house, we drove through the village of Suippe and saw a bunch of people in Band uniforms carrying brass instruments. Not ones to pass up a 'do, we stopped to check it out. It took us a while to figure out what the celebration was, but someone finally told us that it was the beginning of the year concert that they do every year in the village square. "La Clicke" is the slang that the lady taught us. That's what the band was. or it was what they were playing. or it was the name of a concert in a town square. or something. We stayed for a few songs, then made a beeline for N & C's house.
Nico and Christine are two lovelies that I'd met the first time I was here. It was Nico's birthday and they were having a dinner party. Nico is blonde, crazy cute, and has a playfully mischievous glimmer in his blue eyes. Christine is his beautiful dark-eyed and raven-haired counterpart, brilliant with a wry wit. They were both very good at keeping me "in" the conversation, helping me out with the language thang when I got lost. Rounding out the party were Vero and Cedric, Marc, and of course Doc and me. I was lucky in that I got seated in the middle of the table, so I could stay in on the conversations as much as I could. Translating is still not easy, but interestingly enough, it comes easier with a few glasses of wine. Speaking of alkuhawl, after dinner, it was time for "a little something." I forget the exact phrase Nico used when offering me a drink of whatever it was, but well, 'when in Rome,...' so I accepted. That was some kinda likkah. I think I singed my nosehairs trying to get a whiff of it. I have no idea what it was, but it tasted a little like moonshine. Nobody tell my momma I know what moonshine tastes like.